


Whatever It Takes

by Space_Cadet_Blues



Series: Always By Your Side [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, First Kiss, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Cadet_Blues/pseuds/Space_Cadet_Blues
Summary: After a near death experience, Connor decides to explore the unspoken connection between himself and Hank.Hank remains somewhat in denial.





	Whatever It Takes

Damage report:

[Left leg severely damaged with minor motor function remaining]

[Connector port for right shoulder not functioning]

[Right arm not functioning]

[Component AA8681 damaged. Internal thirium leak detected]

[Thirium redirected to major internal biocomponents to prolong shutdown]

[Estimated time of shutdown: 13:46]

It’s cliché Connor thinks, as he drags himself along the alley using a grimy wall for support. His useless ragged right shoulder scraping along sodden brick, smearing blue in his wake as rain pours from overheard.

It’s cliché. He’s going to die saving Hank Anderson, without having ever told him exactly how much Hank means to him.

He makes it to the dilapidated wooden staircase at the back of the warehouse he and Hank were staking out and begins to drag himself up it to the first floor. Joints locking up in protest. Still he pushes on.

His pain receptors are shut off but warnings flash in angry red across his HUD along with the ominous countdown. He ignores the warnings and commands his stubborn broken body to move. He has to keep moving. He's not finished yet.

He must be making a lot of noise with his clumsy ascent but he’s not sure if he can be heard over the roar of the rain.

He strains his audio receptors and hears shouting from within.

He can hear Hank.

_Hurry. Hurry._

There's a door at the top of the stairs. He tries the handle only to find it locked. He breaks the lock with his working hand and inches the door open. He peers into a small office which overlooks the open floor of the warehouse. Thankfully there's noone inside.

He drags himself out of the downpour and into the room following the sound of aggravated shouting. Peering through a mostly broken window down onto the barren warehouse floor, he spots Hank. He's on his knees, nose bloody but he's alive.

Behind him holding a gun pointed at Hank's head is Frank Young, age: 35, involved in the smuggling, kidnapping and dismemberment of androids to fuel red ice distribution.

There's a flare of anger that Connor tramps down. It's not important. He doesn't need to spend his final moments being angry. He needs to spend them saving Hank. It's all that matters.

Connor can hear the wail of sirens but if he doesn't act fast Hank will be dead before backup can arrive.

He glances around quickly. There's another door leading to a platform and then stairs that descend to the warehouse floor. He could try to take a shot from there. He unholsters his service weapon and pre-constructs as best he can.

But his optical components are failing, and he would alert Frank to his location. He needs to take the shot now. Carefully he half shuffles half drags himself closer to the window, and sights his target.

Frank is scared, flushed with adrenaline. Dangerous. He's mumbling to himself. He likely knows if he's caught he'll never be released.

Selling android parts or using thirium for drug production has always been illegal, but as of a few months ago, forcible deactivation of an android is classed as murder. And Frank has taken a lot of lives. Directly or indirectly.

"Just put down the gun," Hank says through gritted teeth.

He's facing Connor's direction and Connor can see him shaking. Not with fear but with anger.

Perhaps 'anger' would be an understatement. Frank had got the jump on them and put two bullets in Connor before beating Hank and dragging him away. For all Hank knows Connor is dead.

"It's over," Hank growls.

"Fuck you, shut the fuck up I'm trying to think!" Frank shoves the barrel of the gun against the back of Hank's head.

He's too close. Connor can't take the shot. After a moment of rising panic Frank moves away. Pacing. Hank will go for his gun. He's sure. He can see Hank tensing to move, eyeing the weapon. He pre-constructs.

Hank will fail.

Connor tracks Frank's movement. Aims. And takes the shot.

It's clean, through the head. Frank collapses with a sickening thump onto the filthy cement floor.

The paperwork will be messy. He gave no warning. But he doesn't care. Backup will arrive and Hank will be safe.

[3.34 until total system failure]

“Connor!” he hears hank call, his panicked voice echoing around the empty space.

He can’t reply.

He slides down to sit against the wall, weapon sliding from his hand.

He hears the clang of Hank’s boots on the stairs and walkway and then the slam of the office door as it's thrown open.

“Connor! Oh, no no no.”

Hanks at his side. Which is nice. He can’t move anymore, can’t speak. His visual processor is a little fuzzy but there’s undeniable fear and heartbreak on Hank’s face as Hank pulls him into his arms.

“Backup's here Connor. You just fucking hold on, we’re gonna fix you up good as new.”

It’s too much. It’s suffocating. Looking at Hanks expression. The tears in his eyes, the panic in his voice. There’s so many things he wants to do with Hank. There are so many things he wants to say.

But he’s trapped. Trapped in his own body which is failing on him.

There’s something hank needs to know before it’s too late. But his processors won’t function. Won’t let him say it.

He manages to weakly curl his fingers around hanks.

Then everything goes dark.

\---

Connor hears birds. The creak of tree branches in the wind. For a moment he’s terrified he’ll open his eyes and find himself back in the zen garden face to face with Amanda. No. She’s gone. Her programme eradicated. He had made sure of that.

Slowly more and more of his sensors feed his sluggish brain more and more information. He’s on some sort of table, padded. Soft plastic. There’s something connected to his right arm. He registers the increase in fresh thirium.

There’s someone in the room. Two people. Talking in low voices. One of them is...

“Hank.”

“Connor?.. Connor! Jesus, fuck. Can you hear me?"

Yes. That’s Hank. Connor feels some sort of hysterical joy bubble up somewhere under his sternum. He can’t release this strange build up of energy appropriately so instead he repeats Hank's name.

Slowly he opens his eyes.

He’s in a small medical room equipped to deal with androids. He remembers the ambush, the beating, the gunshots, Hank being torn away from him. They must have brought him to Cyberlife Tower to repair him.

There's a window open to his right, a gentle breeze flowing in.

To his left, ice blue eyes bore into his when he turns his head.

“Hank.”

Hank looks as though he’s about to cry. Connor doesn’t want him to. He wants Hank to take him home so that he can make Hank happy again.

“Connor, how do you feel? Are you alright?”

Connor thinks for a moment. Physically he’s sure he’s alright. The parts damaged were replaceable. His memories are coming back to him steadily. All safely backed up. Everything that makes Connor himself in his mind is present.

“I have yet to run a full diagnostic. But I trust that Jericho have done a wonderful job of repairing me.” He smiles over Hank's shoulder at Josh who is leaning against the wall by the door.

“Good to see you awake. I’ll let you two have a moment and then we should run some tests. In the meantime you should run a diagnostic Connor, we can work from there.”

Connor nods and Josh makes his exit. He’s friendly enough. But he’s still not sure about Connor and it shows.

Hank squeezes his arm. Connor feels it. Registers Hanks body temperature. His synth skin sings under the warmth and pressure. He wants Hank to touch him more he realises.

“How are you Hank?”

“I’m just fucking peachy compared to you.”

Connor scans him. Noting vitamin deficiency, minor weight loss and poor hygiene. He frowns.

“you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Connor, you almost died, I’m hardly going to be worrying about getting my five a day.”

“Mm, you should at least take a shower. According to my readouts, you smell quite awful.” He smiles, teasing. Hank flushes.

“Well fucking thank you! That’s just what I wanted to hear from you. That you’re concerned with my body odour.”

Hank is red in the face obviously at war with several emotions. Connor hiccups a laugh. He can’t help it. It won’t stop either. His frame shakes with it, it feels good.

Hank looks confused for a moment before barking out a laugh himself.

“You fucking asshole.”

Connor quietens and Hank leans forward thunking his forehead against Connor's. There’s slight traces of alcohol on his breath. Connor will have to talk to him about it later.

“Don’t ever. Ever. Scare me like that again. I mean it Connor.”

Of course this is something he can’t promise. Not really. But he’ll agree to put Hanks mind at rest.

“Understood.”

\----

A week later and Connor is getting antsy. He’s been forced to take leave and see a psychiatrist as is custom for officers injured in the line of duty. Connor can’t stand it.

Hank has also been signed off so they spend all day together which Connor would usually find enjoyable. Except he can’t stop paying attention to all the little things he used to just glance over or take for granted before.

For example, the little notes on the bathroom mirror that he and Hank leave for each other. There’s a pot now for the older ones that have lost their stick and Connor finds himself pouring over them one evening.

There are doodles penned by them both of Sumo and other breeds of dog Sumo has made friends with at the dog park. Hank’s not an amazing artist but he’s not bad either.

Connor’s little reminders.

_Keys are in the bowl. I bought the bowl for a reason Hank. Please use it._

The snarky replies.

_I’ll use the bowl when you stop alphabetising my movies. Genre order Connor!_

There are shopping lists and appointments. All with little doodles and comments.

Part of their life is in this pot. There’s so much more to it. So much that’s changed.

There’s the way Hank puts his arm over the back of the couch when they watch TV accompanied by an increased heart rate. Like maybe he wants Connor to move closer.

Sometimes their feet touch when they sit opposite each other at lunchtime or next to each other at the kitchen table and they just stay like that. Touching as they carry on filling out paperwork or chatting.

There’s the smile that Hank only ever seems to use on Connor.

Hank nudging his shoulder if Connor says something he finds amusing.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Connor, the fuck are you doing in there?”

Connor opens the door abruptly, startling Hank.

“I want to go for a drive. And then I want to go for a walk.”

Hank looks at him warily. “Okay. And you needed to decide this in the bathroom for 35 minutes, why?”

“The bathroom is a nice place to think. I enjoy the temperature.” This isn’t exactly a lie. It’s the optimal room in the house for him to cool his processors.

“Sure,” Hank says though he doesn’t look entirely convinced “Look, let me take a piss and we’ll go for a drive. Go grab the keys and wait in the car.”

“Are they in the-“

“Yes they’re in the goddamn bowl,” he grouses as he gently nudges Connor into the hall and enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Their drive takes them to the river. Hank parks up in the lot next to the playground. He’s gotten a lot better about coming out here.

They’d decided to break into Coles memory gently. Visiting one place at a time. Sometimes Hank would talk for hours. Sometimes he wouldn’t say anything at all.

Out of all the spots Hank has shown him, Connor likes this one the most.

They take a slow walk for half a mile up and then back towards the car. The silence between them isn’t exactly uncomfortable but its heavy.

There are things Connor needs Hank to know. And he has the distinct feeling Hank needs to share something with him too.

They sit on the bench nearest the parking lot, a foot of space between them.

The silence grows thicker until Connor slides his foot over bringing it to rest against Hank’s.

Hank's voice is quiet, he wrings his hands gently, looking at the floor between his feet.

“You know, you could have died, for what? trying to protect an old man. That’s hardly fair is it, you’ve barely had a shot at this whole, being alive thing."

He pauses, sighing gently like he's struggling to get the words out, like it hurts to voice his thoughts. "It... It took ‘em a week to bring you back online. At one point I thought... I was so...”

He trails off, looking out toward the water, the twinkling lights on the bridge like distant fireflies in the waning light. His eyes are sad, distant. Like he's reliving raw feeling and not just processing memories.

Connor's heart sinks. Connor had put himself in front of Hank in that alleyway, wanting to be the first thing between Hank and whoever was lurking in the shadows.

He'd taken a hit. And he'd still almost lost him.

But even though his attempt to protect Hank had mostly failed, he'd do it again in a heartbeat because Connor isn't sure what he'd have done if it had been Hank shot and left for dead. He can't envision a future without Hank. He's never felt so strongly about anything.

But he'd made Hank live through the pain of uncertainty. A week in limbo, miserable and alone. He can't apologise for standing in harm's way but he will apologise for that.

"I'm sorry," he says, quiet, voice not so steady anymore. "I'm sorry you had to go through that.

And I may not have been around for very long, but I know that, I'd do anything to ensure your safety. If I had died protecting you and gave you an advantage to overturn the situation, it would have been worth it."

Hank frowns and sits up a little straighter. He's tense. Angry, Connor realises.

"Anyone ever tell you, you suck at apologies?"

"I-"

"Christ Connor, you've never even been outside of the city. There's a lot more out there for you to experience, so I don't ever want to see you putting yourself in the line of fire. Not ever again. I've had my time. You have to live for you."

Connor shifts closer, brows furrowing in annoyance. He won't let Hank's self depreciation and stubbornness win out. “You don’t get to tell me that. You don't get to tell me what I should live for. Isn't that part of being a person. Deciding what you want to do with your own life, even if others think you're not doing what's best."

Hank's jaw clenches. To argue against this particular point would be hypocritical of him.

Connor shifts a little closer. He wants desperately for Hank to soften. He doesn't want to see sadness or anger in those kind eyes. He doesn't want to be the one who put those emotions there. But maybe that's part of being a person too.

"Hank. I want to live for you."

"What-"

He doesn't let Hank finish. Something takes ahold of him, moves his mechanical muscles, rips away his fears in one mad moment.

As Hank turns his head Connor leans in and presses his mouth to Hank's.

Hank allows it for a moment before pulling back just a little, his eyes closing.

"Connor." His voice is small, pinched with emotion.

Connor shushes him because he knows. Knows that this isn't something he can take back. That he's dragging out something that belongs to both of them and laying it bare.

He wants to. And he thinks Hank wants it too. Even if he might try to protect Connor by hiding it. It doesn't matter. Connor will chase him down. It's what he's good at after all.

Connor kisses him. Gentle and soft. He's never done this before. Only has movies and TV shows to go off of. But somehow he manages. It's good. More than good. It's amazing, electric and he doesn't want to stop, because it's Hank, he's kissing Hank. And Hank is kissing back.

Hank's hands paw at him, pulling him close and his own hands are suddenly in Hank's hair. Hank takes control and Connor gladly follows his lead, learning quickly. It's turning into something deep and hot that melts Connor's artificial bones and licks sensation up his wiring.

This is wonderful. This is everything. Hank is everything.

It winds down before long. Hank needs air after all. They break apart somewhat reluctantly. Connor licks his lips as he moves back a little to give Hank space.

Hank has his eyes closed and his breathing is slightly laboured. Eventually he turns back to face the river and so does Connor.

They sit in silence for a long stretch before Hank clears his throat. "We should head back, it's getting late."

"Agreed."

Connor watches as Hank gets up and heads off slowly towards the parking lot.

He needs time. Understandably.

But if he thinks Connor will give up on him he's sorely mistaken. He'll get Hank to realise that there's nowhere else he would rather be than by his side.

Whatever it takes.


End file.
